#hellopapa

and it has been 415 days since you passed. The sky is clouded tonight and unfortunately I cannot see your star, so I am sitting in my arm chair, with the Teddy you gave Mama decades ago and holding him. I have been looking at pictures of you and tears are rolling down my face. I know your spirit will haunt me tonight, and I am really waiting for you. 

A few days ago I, for the first time, came to the realisation that you are gone. Whenever I thought of you, my I was thinking that I should call you, that I haven’t texted you in ages and that I could come over and make some vanilla pudding for us. But instead “He died” went through my head. I feel so silly for living in this phase of denial for so long, living in a alternate reality, where the world appears to be fine. 

However, at the same time, so much has happened last year that seems so far away and distant, as if it has been ten years. 

I just saw a TikTok - imagine having to explain to you what that is, you’d get dope cat videos though - where they prepared a high calorie infusion, and I remembered the day when your nurse gave us a spoonful to try. Remember how disgusting it was. I remember T refusing to try it, not even a single sip. You said it tasted like flour - almost like on of the potions I used to make as a kid that you always drank. 

It is weird thinking that two years ago, we’ve been sitting in your kitchen and preparing your birthday, talking about what we could do and if we even could have a party outside the hospital. 

Last year, T and I just got fries, had some cake and handled your bank account. This year I do not know if we can make it. She never speaks about you and I wish she would finally do so. She’s the only one who could truly understand what the three of us went to, the only one who’s been with you and me till the last day, but she has put all of this in a drawer and swallowed that key. Just when I need her. I am really trying to keep my promise and support her like a sister should, but I feel like I am drowning when being there for both of us, when I am all by myself. Have you ever told her the same? Have you ever begged her to always be there for me when you cannot? I have been asking myself that lately. 

I remember sitting by your bed last year, telling you stories of good times, you stroking my hand with your tumb while staring at the wall. That motion will forever remind me of you and it honestly causes a panic attack if anyone else does it, even when I know it is a subconscious movement. But whenever that happens, I see you, in that hospital bed, with your eyes of glass and short of breathe. It truly is haunting, and it always used to pull me out of my alternate reality for a little while.

I wish I could hug you, hear you crack a Covid joke and just smile at me saying I love you Tweety. 

I love you Papa